A Series of Interruptions
by iKingBearII
Summary: Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley are getting married in a week. With their marriage looming ever closer, their minds are drawn to a few memories of familial interruptions.
1. Eyes to the Past

**At long last! I've been super excited about this idea ever since I came up with it and started writing it. It's almost entirely complete, I just need to edit the last few chapters I wrote. Chapters should be uploaded once a day each day from now!**

**For credits: Everyone in the Ginny Lover's discord server has been wonderful while I was writing this. ****Meyers1020 and Deadwoodpecker have been especially helpful in encouraging me when I hit a few hard spots in writing it, I'm super grateful to you guys! ****And I really couldn't have done this without Tina (LoquaciousLotusBlossom). If you like this story, thank her! It wouldn't exist without her. And if you haven't already read her stuff, definitely go check out her profile! She has a few fantastic things posted. **

* * *

Harry Potter didn't have care much for ambition. He did want to prove himself, to show others he mattered, but he had never aimed very high. He attributed that to his childhood and teenage years. His childhood wasn't something he talked about, and he really didn't want to. He had never been told that he was loved; indeed, it was made quite clear that he _wasn't_. He hadn't even felt like he mattered. The first eleven years of his life were like a pre-life. Afterward, he had a single goal: defeat the Dark Lord and save the Wizarding World.

Despite his entire life being determined by a prophecy, he felt freed after the War. With a power vacuum has opened, many opportunists had risen high in a desperate political scramble. He could have been one of those, but he didn't. He had everything he had ever wanted; a good, relatively simple career, wonderful friends, and a beautiful girlfriend who loved and understood him.

In a week, she would no longer be his girlfriend. A week from now, he would have the thing he had dreamed of since he had understood what he lost—he would have a family. He felt nothing further than the standard nerves, in truth, because his path was clear. Ginny and he were soulmates, meant to be together from the first. He had never spoken up about this feeling, nor had she, but they didn't need to. He knew she knew.

He smiled as he looked up from his paperwork, his eyes landing on a photo of Ginny and Teddy that he had taken on one of their ventures in the Muggle world. Her eyes alight, unburdened by anything, and her smile wide and free. His heart sped up as it always did when he saw her and Teddy together. He knew that Ginny had her career, and he would never do anything to jeopardize that, but he couldn't deny that he wanted children desperately. He wanted a family so badly, a way to do right by them as he had not had done for him. The image of teaching a feisty red-haired little girl how to fly had latched on to his heart, making itself clear. Making his future clear.

Looking back down at his paperwork he groaned, knowing he'd get no further work done tonight. The marriage date being near had been sending him down memory lane lately, and he couldn't stop his mind from pulling him to the past. Several incidents of his family – Molly had insisted that he consider himself part of the Weasley family – members happening upon Ginny and he flowed through his mind.

* * *

Ginny Weasley was a woman of many talents and ambitious goals. She aimed for nothing less than what she wanted. From a young age, she had had her priorities clear, from her career as a professional Quidditch player to her independence in all things, including relationships.

And, for the most part, she succeeded. A day did not come by that she didn't thank fate for keeping her family relatively unscathed from the War; unfortunately, that relief came with the guilt—Percy, finally seeing the error in his ways, had fought bravely in the Battle of Hogwarts. It was there that he died. As Fred told it, he had sacrificed himself. Ginny didn't think Fred had ever gotten over that.

The War had been a dark, hellacious thing. She had spent her sixth year at school helping to lead a rebellion against the tyrannical rule forced upon them by the de-facto Death Eater government. That year she had hardened her heart, starting with Harry's disappearance. In truth, she'd never thought past the War. What would she do if she survived—would she be with Harry and get the happy ending?

That was a question she had only dared to ask herself once, and she had hated herself for it. She had never been dependent – she had fought fiercely to earn independence – and refused to surrender it to her love for Harry.

After the War, she had discovered that it wasn't uncommon to ignore the future in the face of battle. So many, she learned, had focused entirely on the War, for reasons of vengeance or simply out of justice. These people were the ones who truly lost the most; when the War ended, they had nothing but the shattered remnants of a fight that was now fought. Many of them were lost souls, though the Ministry under Shacklebolt was doing much to help those types.

There were two things Ginny owed herself to: her family and Harry. They had given her the strength she needed as she had walked the castle grounds, perusing the death and destruction that was the end of the Second Wizarding War. This strength had kept her together when she had heard of Percy's death. They would never be reconciled.

Harry had been wonderful after the War. Despite the losses suffered on his part – she would never forget Tonks and Remus, nor their son, who she had grown immensely fond of – he was a stalwart shoulder for her. It was awkward, their reconciliation, for Ginny refused to surrender herself to her instincts and bring the issue to Harry, and he tried to give her space. Yet they had both felt drawn to each other and it hadn't been long before they had resumed their relationship.

And life had gone on in spectacular fashion. Harry had trained to become a successful Auror and Ginny had earned a spot working for the Holyhead Harpies. She wasn't a Starting player yet, but she was nearing it. Harry had just been promoted to Team Leader at the Auror Office and Ginny knew it wouldn't be too many years until he ran the whole thing—it was the worst kept secret in the Ministry.

And they would be married in a week. Of all her ambitions, all the goals and successes in her life, she counted this among her greatest. Not for the fact that she would become one of the wealthiest women in the country or the fact that she'd be famous – she had that already and didn't give a toss about it – or even that she had fancied Harry since before she knew him.

They were soulmates. It was a statement that she had never voiced, not even to Harry. He knew, though. She saw it in his eyes, and when he says, "I love you", the tone as reverent and happy as it had been the first time, he'd voiced it. She saw it when they made love, their forms fitting so perfectly that it was hard to believe they weren't crafted for the sole purpose of being together.

She could see herself in a few years, getting ready to end her career for motherhood, raising beautiful children who would be loved as dearly as life itself. When younger she had never expected herself to want children, for they had never fit into her goals; she loved her mother, but she chafed at the idea of being a housewife and naught more. However, in a small but ever-growing corner of herself, she felt a more maternal side of her rising. Images of red-haired green-eyed children had been coming forward, faster and faster. In just one week a new chapter to her life would begin. She couldn't wait.

Her thought process was interrupted by a bludger fast approaching, reminding her that she had a job to do. Of course, the bludger wasn't the only thing, "What the hell are you doing daydreaming, girl? Get going!"

Gwenog was a stern and fair instructor, and in truth she still intimidated Ginny. She had a presence about her that made her disappointment a severe thing. Speeding up, Ginny snatched the Quaffle and spun, avoiding the second bludger shot at her. With deadly accuracy, she threw it to the left hoop, arm pumping as it sailed through easily. _I still have it.  
_  
Annoyingly, despite her firm attempts to control her mind, she couldn't help but think of the past. That goal would be the last of the day, and Gwenog knew it. The entire team knew it, really, and none made any attempts to curb their teasing. She grinned as memories of her and Harry flowed through her mind, some embarrassing and some _very _enjoyable. Six memories of seven family members in particular came to mind.


	2. Ron and the Sunlit Weeks

Harry smiled as he leaned against a tree, holding Ginny close. He hadn't much felt the need for a relationship, especially since the disaster that was Cho. He'd always felt he had too much to do—his destiny.

But the relationship was a bumbling, special thing in those precious, sunlit weeks. _Too few weeks_, Harry decided, as he pulled Ginny closer, enjoying her small sigh of satisfaction immensely. The past few years, if he were being honest, had been awful. If he allowed himself a small measure of self-pity, his entire life had been a heap of trash that held a few diamonds littered within.

He knew he brooded, and he knew he was moody. And who could blame him, considering his future? He would murder or be murdered; it was destiny. But his silent fortitude – silent for the pain and fear he hid within – was cracked and breaking. The whole reason for this release was sitting beside him – no, astride him, he realized, wondering when she straddled him. Her hair, that vibrant red that had enraptured him the past few months, was tousled from their earlier snogging.

He moaned as her mouth lowered to his, seeking the unity that they both felt in the intimate contact. He was amazed every day when he felt how close they'd grown in such a short span of time. He'd known Ginny for years, of course, but he hadn't paid too much attention to her until recently. Her fiery personality, sharp wit, and quietly understanding nature all combined to make an ideal girlfriend. She so often fulfilled his most heartfelt wish: she knew what he wanted to tell her but couldn't. Too often he had felt such an overwhelming need to talk to somebody, but he couldn't put it into words, and it was then that he fervently prayed that they would understand what he wanted to say but couldn't.

And she did. Without pushing him to talk, or even requesting it politely, she knew that was one of his desires, to matter. That was why he pushed himself so hard, he knew; he wanted to matter, to be validated by successes hard fought for. Every day since they had gotten together – and even plenty before, he had belatedly realized – she had, in some form of word, action, or other symbolization, shown him that he mattered. For that, he would be eternally grateful.

His attraction – for beneath his immense destiny and responsibility laid a teenager's body – was not only emotional. It would be a lie to say that he hadn't noticed and paid particular attention to, her growing chest and bottom. Harry knew he wasn't as hormonal as some of his dormmates, but for the past few months, he had been having dreams that left him grateful that Ron didn't know Legilimency. He had, of course, tried desperately to show her how much he cared for her, how beautiful he thought she was, without being too forward. He knew, though, from a grudging admission that she felt much the same way about him as he did her.

Which was why he was startled – and simultaneously delighted – when her hand gripped his and brought it up to her breast. Harry, eyes widening, spoke, his voice embarrassingly vulnerable, "Ginny, are you—really?"

She laughed her beautiful laugh, though he could feel an undertone of nervousness in it, "We're in our perfect little secret spot by the lake, nobody will know. Don't worry, Potter, clothes stay on."

Harry nodded a little too quickly, a peculiar mix of fear and excitement pooling in his stomach, mixing with the long-present heat. That heat was not helped by her soft moan as his hand tightened around her uniform shirt. He could feel her nipple harden beneath his hand and he swore he could feel the softness, despite the material separating her flesh and his hand. It was at this moment that he decided he could die happy.

His other hand, which had been resting rather nervously on her waist, was steered lower until it was resting on her thigh, directly on the border of no return. _If anyone caught us like this it'd be awful_, he thought nervously. A second later an even scarier thought struck, _If Ron caught us like this my life would be over. _A second later, under Ginny's watchful gaze, he made his choice, _but what a way to go._

She smiled at him as his hand slid higher and higher, coming to rest gently on her inner thigh, close to heat he could now feel. His eyes raised to meet hers and he nearly melted at the nearly palpable lust in her eyes. "Clothes don't come off, but that doesn't mean we can't have fun," she added, her voice now noticeably huskier.

After what could have been anywhere from ten seconds to ten hours, his control snapped, and he groaned, "Sorry, Gin, I need—gah, I need _you_."

As if his body had a mind of its own his hands pulled her tighter to him and rocked against her, shocked at how _good_, even though his multiple layers of clothing and her knickers, it felt. He was already climbing the mountain of pleasures that he both knew and didn't know. It had never been like this, so startlingly clear and yet at the same time blinding. He was happy he'd set up that silencing charm around their secluded area. Suddenly Ginny stiffened and let out a low whine. After a moment it occurred to her that they weren't in great privacy, and she leaned forward eagerly to his neck and closed her teeth around his skin muffle her voice. He grunted in shock and surprise, for the pain was, in an odd way, staking his desire. Before long he joined her and groaned loudly, his face buried in her fiery mane as he spent himself into his pants.

He wasn't sure how long they laid like that, entwined and united in something new shared between a couple that were shockingly advanced, age considering. Harry wasn't sure what love was, and he wasn't convinced that was what he felt for Ginny, but he had never felt what he felt towards her in another human being. She was a special part of him; she made him matter. And that was all he ever wanted, it was his dearest ambition.

Unfortunately, he was Harry Potter, and fate seemed determined to give him a bloody hard time. Suddenly they heard a loud rustling and voice suddenly break over them, "Bloody hell, what's—Harry, did you set this sile—_bloody hell, what are you doing to my sister?_"

Harry sat up, nearly dumping Ginny off his lap, and he would have if not for the tight hold his arms had of her. He had become all too aware that his pants were sticky and the cause of it was Ron's sister, who now lay in his lap. He truly was going to die.

Fortunately, Ginny Weasley had been decreed by fate to have a notoriously quick wit. "What does it look like, Ronald? Snogging, and we were getting a bit of a nap in; or would have, if you hadn't come traipsing in here with all the subtlety of a bear."

Ron's face, which had been a startling shade of red, seemed to calm a little. Harry almost felt bad for the deceit. Almost.

"Right, well, time's up on that. You're both needed for Quidditch practice, don't tell me you forgot?" His face suggested that forgetting Quidditch practice was a grave sin.

Ginny laughed, her voice so full of confidence and light and everything that he loved about her. This thought came with a snap of fracture clarity as he saw the truth that he'd known for weeks now; he loved her. It was fast, and they were young, but none of that mattered. She gave him what he had always dreamed of, and she understood him better than he sometimes understood himself.

It was this understanding, this power – the power that the Dark Lord knew not – that fueled him and kept him alive during the darkest nights of the years to come.


	3. Experimentation

The Burrow was a place that held many fond memories; Ginny likened it to a landmark in her heart, and she knew her siblings felt the same. Whatever experiences she'd had, and any in the future, the Burrow would always be a place of comfort and safety. The Weasley family were very close, despite their jesting and teasing. Any of them would die for each other, such was their bond. Indeed, they were all known as war heroes.

That wasn't their only claim to fame, however. The Weasleys were famous for their celebrations. After the War and a grieving period, the Weasleys – much at the insistence of Fred and George – had celebrated the dead, the living, and soon enough anything else worthy of a party. Members of the DA and old friends were invited, and the celebrations quickly became famous and large.

Even Harry, who generally disliked places with a lot of people and loud noises, had a load of fun. Today was the second one of such large parties, in the summer after the War, and Ginny had to laugh as she saw her mother puttering around the garden trying to attend to guests as much as possible. While she had originally been against the ever-growing parties, she had grown to enjoy them, as long as they agreed to the stipulation that nobody was allowed inside the home.

It was then, watching her mother try desperately to convince Xenophilius Lovegood not to spell away some floating lanterns – he was insisting they were infested with Nargles – that a massive bang broke out above them. As the sky lit up, Ginny's eyes narrowed, and she immediately swirled to the bowl of pumpkin juice. With a triumphant grin, she saw Fred pour a healthy dose of Firewhisky into it.

Deciding that they were due some fun, Ginny turned to Harry, who was chatting with Ron.

"Harry, let's get another drink," Ginny offered, grabbing his hand and tugging him. Ignoring his spluttering – he'd been discussing Quidditch and was fully focused on the conversation – she dragged him through the crowd to the punch bowl, eagerly filling two glasses.

"Ginny, we had two nearly full glasses over there," Harry pointed out, his voice sounding adorably confused.

"Don't worry, Harry, you'll enjoy this one much more," Ginny explained with a grin. Harry, deciding to just trust her, took the proffered glass and drank deeply. After a moment, his face screwed up and he let out a harsh breath.

"What the hell is this?" he whispered hoarsely.

Ginny smirked and matched him, taking a deep pull from her glass. To her credit, her facial expression didn't change at all. Deciding she enjoyed the taste – even if it didn't taste much like pumpkin juice _or _Firewhisky – and even more the warmth that spread through her chest and body.

Suddenly the yard felt crowded and loud, and Ginny felt smothered. Her mind, always quick to action, led her to grab his hand and pull him away from the noise and lights and confinement that was the party. Alone with none but Harry, she felt happy, and she giggled as they settled against a tree hidden away in the orchard. He chuckled along with her, laughing at the absurdity of their situation, and the party itself. They hadn't been alone too much since their reunion.

As if guided by an unknown force, their eyes met, dark green on chocolate brown. Seconds later their lips met in a desperately passionate manner, both seeking and finding the fire and comfort that came from their love. Harry fell backward against the tree, but their kiss was not interrupted. For a while it seemed that even the need to breathe would not stop their interaction; unfortunately, that was not to be.

Heaving deep breaths they gathered themselves, eventually calming down. Ginny looked up with a dazed grin to see Harry smiling at her. Suddenly that same giddy joy filled her, and she laughed, Harry's joining her in a harmony of two who were young and in love. After a moment they quieted and Ginny felt, much to her delight, Harry shift surreptitiously. She grinned as she felt his erection pressing against her.

Her eyes took in his blushing face, illuminated by the ongoing fireworks, as she grinned at him. She leaned back off of him slightly and slid her hand down his body to his belt and winked at him. His response was unintelligible but quite clear in conveying his approval. In what felt like a blur she had his trousers lowered, ever conscious of the fact that they were not entirely alone, and someone could come stumbling into the orchard at any moment.

This was the farthest they'd gone. It was odd, and not entirely the way she'd imagined this situation going, but it felt right. And the look on his face as she gripped his erection was a reward in itself. Gently she stroked him, hoping she was doing it right. She'd never been in this situation with anybody, and only had the Witch Weekly magazines that were passed around in the dormitory for reference.

Harry didn't seem to mind and it hadn't been long before Harry was warning her, "Gin—sorry, erm, I'm going to … yeah," he whispered, trying to control his voice. Moments later he came, and Ginny watched, enraptured.

She realized, as she cast a cleaning charm, that she enjoyed the power she had over him. That she could make him come undone like that with a simple touch pleased her immensely.

Suddenly she was flipped over as Harry moved to switch places with her, placing her gently against the tree. She grinned at him, happy that he was taking some initiative. He had always been careful around her, seeking to please her without upsetting her. This led to a lack of initiation in contact, something she was slowly but surely fixing. His matching grin as he leaned down to kiss her proved that fact.

He raised his head to stare at her for a moment, his gaze changing to inspective. In his heart, Harry had always been afraid of love. It was hard for him to connect emotionally with others, especially since he had considered himself doomed to die for most of his teen years, and before then he had never even known the meaning of love. He knew he loved her, though, had known since those sunlit weeks; Ginny Weasley was his soulmate. After a moment of nervous consideration, he spoke, "You are gorgeous, Ginny. I love you."

The factual tone he used as he spoke brought tears to her eyes. Harry was emotionally closed-off, that much was obvious to anyone who knew him for an extended period of time. She knew that he loved her just as much as she had always loved him, but she had feared that she might push him into saying the words simply to appease her.

Before Ginny could respond in any way, a soft voice, splintered off from the loud mix of voices where all the main partygoers were, drifted over the orchard. Harry jerked up and set his pants in order as Ginny scrambled to make herself as presentable as possible.

"Bloody hell, Fred, you said you'd follow them!" came a desperate admonishment from George.

"I was, but Mr. Lovegood stopped me to talk about the Nargles!"

"There's no such thing as a bloody Nargle, and now heaven knows what they could be up to. We haven't actually given them to anyone yet," George moaned, sounding defeated.

Ginny sighed sadly, knowing that they would have to reveal themselves now. She had really been looking forward to Harry returning the favor. Grinning as Harry kissed her one last time, she stumbled out from behind the tree.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about, you two?" She said, her arms crossed. She wasn't really upset, but she did enjoy scaring them. All of the Weasley siblings were scared of her, she knew. She'd used a lot of effort to make it that way.

Fred and George wheeled around to face her and, after a moment, George spoke, "Ah, if it isn't our dearest most benevolent sister. We were just seeking you out!"

"What was that about not giving 'them' to anyone?" Ginny asked, her voice carefully neutral.

Fred's shoulders straightened and he spoke, a proud tone in his voice, "Ah, our newest invention, made to spice things up between a couple. We put some Firewhisky in the punch while you were looking so you'd grab a glass. Then, ingeniously and with great skill, George spelled some into your goblets. Nothing major just lowers some inhibitions so you can enjoy yourselves. Really, it's a mix of a lot of things, but I will say, it should be impossible to lie while under the influence. We've never tested it though, how'd it work?"

Ginny froze, considering his words. A sudden realization came upon her, then—they _hadn't_ been able to lie. And he had told her he loved her. She'd known it, she could feel it, but he'd never voiced it. He loved her. She smiled at the twins, a solitary tear of joy coming to her eye, "It worked _perfectly_, you guys."

After a quick discussion on the effects and an antidote in little green bottles handed to both of them, the twins left, bidding them a good night. Harry laid on the ground, pulling Ginny down with him. Ginny enjoyed laying against him, fitting perfectly in his arms. For a moment – the stars bright in the sky, mixing beautifully with the fireworks – there were no worries or responsibilities, just them.

Ginny wasn't sure how long it was but eventually, Harry fell asleep. His breath was soothing, and she studied his face. His face was completely without worry or stress, simply relaxed. She loved to see him that way, to know that she had a part in it.

Ginny smiled as she felt her full antidote bottle, undrunk as of yet. Quietly but firmly she whispered, tasting the words. "I love you, Harry."


	4. Everything

Number 12 Grimmauld Place was a nightmare. The once-proud ancestral home of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had long since gone to a state of disrepair, and it was barely habitable.

Harry, however, had decided to live there. It was his, by rights; he was the only heir of Sirius Black, as his Godfather's will was deemed valid. Since the War's end, he had lived at the Burrow, and in truth, he had enjoyed those scant weeks. Being close to his best mate, recovering from the months of despair, were amazing. And the constant closeness of his beautiful girlfriend had been a blessing—and a curse. It was maddening, living in the same house as her, inevitably running into awkward situations. Yet the time had been invaluable, for they had once again grown close and rekindled their relationship.

And Ginny was nothing if not stubborn; her goal of seeking closer intimacy with him was not one he was averse to. After the second Weasley Party, they had grown bold and taken several trips into the orchard. He knew that it wouldn't be much longer until they went all the way. He couldn't help but feel guilty, however, like he was betraying the trust of the Weasleys. They had taken him into their home and loved him like their own, and in turn, he wanked nearly daily to thoughts of their only daughter.

More interestingly, he had learned, she had done much the same. He loved her, and he knew in his heart that she loved him, but it had still surprised him. After he had learned that, it had become even worse; he constantly wondered _when_ she did it. And that led his imagination in a dangerous direction.

In short, he had been chased out of the Burrow by lust and a half-arsed attempt at being noble. Unfortunately, he quickly learned that living alone was _boring_. He couldn't go out for a fly or chat with his best mate. He would be busy in a few months when Auror training began, but until then he had nothing but free time. He had turned to cleaning Grimmauld Place, but that was not an easy task, and it too was boring.

The last time he'd had enjoyment was a couple of days ago when he'd went to the Burrow for a few hours. Fred and George had been a riot, and of course, seeing Ginny again had been wonderful. Time had permitted they had time together outside in the orchard. Unfortunately, thoughts of that led to …

_Damn it, Harry! _He scolded mentally; _can you think of nothing but Ginny?_

Desperately, he began clearing a guest room. This was difficult as he had learned that it was loaded with Doxies. Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley had insisted he take a large batch of Doxycide, knowing from her prior experience that Doxies enjoyed the dark atmosphere of the formerly Black house.

After an hour, Harry had the room cleared of Doxies, and slumped down in the kitchen, a defeated look on his face. The boredom would not be staved off, he knew. For a moment—a terrible moment—he realized how Sirius must have felt that last year.

And it was at that moment that the Floo flared brightly, and his indisputably favorite redhead stepped out gracefully.

"Ginny!" Harry gasped, standing up out of his chair. Suddenly the two days it'd been since he'd seen her felt like a year.

Ginny grinned and met him halfway, both crossing the kitchen and throwing themselves into an eager hug. Harry leaned down to pull Ginny into a breathtaking kiss. _It has been too long._

After a very intense welcoming kiss, Harry found himself asking a very important question, "Why are you here?"

Ginny grinned impishly at him, "Oh, I told Dad that I'd be helping you clean."

Harry couldn't help but let out a small moan, "I've spent all day – all week, cleaning. I think I'll go insane if I have to clean any more today."

Ginny's smirk widened, "It's a good thing that I have absolutely no intentions of cleaning then, isn't it?"

Harry's mouth went dry. _Did she … was she saying … _"What exactly are you implying, Gin? And, your father…"

"_Well_, Harry, my father wouldn't think about it that much. That's why I asked Dad; Mum would know right away. Anyways, I was thinking," she paused for a moment, suddenly nervous. "Do you want to have sex?" The question was phrased quickly, shot out in one breath; Harry heard it all the same.

"Uh, Gin, are you sure it's … a good time? You know I love you, but don't you think it's a little soon?" Harry asked, two sides warring in him. He loved her, and he wanted to treat her with all the respect that somebody perfect like her deserved. The other side of him very much wanted to shag.

Ginny smiled, her nerves still there and yet assured by the strength of her love. Most boys Harry's age wouldn't have even hesitated. "Harry, we both know that we're going to be very busy soon. I'm going back to school, and I'm going to be damned sure to do well. I'm _going_ to play for the Harpies. You're going to be one of the best Aurors in the entire Ministry. We're young, and we have time, and we're in love. Us being together alone like this might not happen again. I want this."

He couldn't argue with her points. He had a habit of procrastinating on issues and just pushing them off, but he couldn't when she laid it out in front of him. They would barely see each other for an entire year, and then they'd both be incredibly busy. They would make time, to be sure, and there was always the Hogsmeade visits, but it wouldn't be enough. He wanted this.

"I … I do want this, Gin. Merlin, I want it badly," he conceded, surprised by how nervous he felt. It was a weird nervousness, mixed with anticipation. It gave him the courage he needed to lean down and kiss Ginny. It was a message; he loved her, and he knew, despite his lack of sentimentality, that he would do his best to be with her, as equal partners in love and life. _Merlin, when did I become a poet?_

Harry pulled back from the kiss and smiled at her, his eyes meeting hers. He released the constraints on the feelings he'd been fighting those last few weeks, and it was as if a dam had been broken. The air filled with an almost palpable electric feeling and he knew that she felt the same. Their lips re-attached, this time a rough, passionate embrace. Harry's hands slid slowly down her back before pulling her closer to him,

Press this tightly against her, snogging her so heatedly, he felt like he was burning with passion. That led Harry to another massively embarrassing thought. Pulling back for a moment, he stared in her half-lidded eyes, "Err, Gin … I'm not— blimey, I'm not going to be very good. It's, well, you know," Harry tried to explain, horribly mortified. Thankfully, Ginny understood what he was trying to say; she understood him better than anyone.

She smiled softly, her lips drawing Harry's attention in a not-too-innocent way, "Harry, I know that first times aren't meant to be grand. But I want to give this to you," she answered. After a moment, her smile turned into a smirk, "Anyways, I'm sure we'll practice plenty."

Harry nearly groaned at the tone as his erection became painful in the confines of his pants. Ginny grabbed his hand and pulled him, "Let's go to the bedroom." Harry's nervousness and anticipation had nearly doubled now, battling with each other for dominance.

All he had to think of was Ginny's love for him, and his for her. She made him matter, she made him more than Harry Potter. To him, she was everything. All of the bad cards handed to him—Prophecy, murdered parents, abuse, and becoming a soldier in a war he'd never wanted— were not only irrelevant, but they were also _good_. Everything that had happened to him, everything that had made him want to scream and cry, had led to this point.

He hadn't realized it until now, but he had never been complete, not truly. He'd never cared about himself, hadn't loved himself. But she loved him, and that love completed him. For the first time in his life, he was truly thankful to be alive, and he owed it all to Ginny Weasley.

It was then, being practically dragged up the stairs of Grimmauld Place, that Harry determined he'd do anything to show Ginny how much she meant to him. He would walk any distance and jump through any hoop.

He was pulled out of his inner deliberation by the realization that they had read the bedroom. Ginny practically threw the door open, but as she crossed the threshold and approached the bed she slowed, turning to Harry. The nervousness in her eyes touched a place deep inside him, and he smiled at her. "Ginny, I love you. So much. I don't think you'll ever really know what you've done for me," he explained, trying to convey his emotions. She opened her mouth to speak and he raised a hand. "Please, let me finish. You are everything to me. You saved me; Voldemort be damned. I can't— Ginny, I can't imagine my life without you." Harry was embarrassed to find that his eyes stung. Blinking furiously, he finished, "You are everything to me, love."

Blushing furiously he looked down, his confidence failing him now that he'd spoken. His eyes refused to meet hers. He was pushed back by Ginny slamming into his chest, her arms wrapping around his neck in a tight hug. After a moment—and a near fall—Harry laughed, and the intensity of the conversation lightened up just a little. "I love you, too, Harry, so much that it _hurts_ sometimes. This year has been horrible, but we're free. We have our lives. Let's make this year a _good _one, damn it."

With the brightest smile that he had ever worn, Harry nodded. His fingers touched the hem of her shirt and raised it, slowly. Once the shirt was gone, he ran his hand down her fiery hair, and lower, until he reached the clasp of her dark green bra. He had gotten quite a bit of experience in unclasping bras this summer.

She made a noise at the back of her throat and pulled back slightly, pulling Harry's shirt off in a flash. He chuckled, "Don't be impatient, Gin, I want to make this special for you, alright?"

She nodded, and Harry leaned down, pulling a pink nipple into his mouth and sucking gently, enjoying the noise of appreciation that she made. After a few more seconds, he lowered himself to his knees and unbuttoned her jeans, his eyes not leaving hers. In a moment, her jeans had fallen, and he couldn't help but move his gaze to her matching dark green knickers. It was a personal victory to him that there was a large wet spot in the middle. It didn't take long for her knickers to join the rest of her clothing on the floor.

With a grin, Harry stood and pushed her back onto the bed. He removed his jeans and boxers before leaning onto it, his face in between her legs, close to her center. He raised a hand to run through the glistening red curls of her sex, training lower until it ran through her folds. It was nothing they hadn't done before, but the resulting moan turned him on just as much as it had the first time he'd heard it.

And then Harry tried something they hadn't done before. Lowering his face, he licked up the length of her slit, ending at her clit, which he took a moment to suck on. As she raised her hands to his hair and moaned, he decided that he had a new favorite food.

Not that he'd tell anyone. His hand returned to her and two fingers slid into her, enjoying the heat. Gently, he curled them in just the way she'd told him to and continued the actions his mouth had been making. Quickly, she came undone, and Harry smiled, pulling up to lay next to her, giving her a moment to recover.

When she had come down from her orgasm—it was amazing how quickly he'd learned to be able to tell— he kissed her gently, "Would you like to be on top. I've heard that it, well, is more comfortable for girls. The first time."

She considered it for a moment before her hands found his shoulders and pushed him flat on his back. With a grin, she nodded, raising herself to straddle him.

Harry loved the view. He groaned as she gripped his cock, lining it up with her vagina. He raised a hand to cup her breast and roll a puffy nipple between two fingers, while his other hand slide around her back trying to give her all the pleasure he could. With a nervous smile, Ginny lowered herself, slowly. To Harry, it was heaven.

The tight heat the gripped him made him groan and reflexively buck his hips, causing her to gasp. As if cold water had been thrown over him his vision shot back into focus. Seeing the discomfort on his face, Harry felt horrible. "I'm so sorry, Gin, it's just—you're just, yeah," he rambled, horribly mortified and guilty.

And then Ginny was down, her body completely encasing his penis. To both give Ginny time to adjust and to stop himself from blowing too early, he tried to think of irrelevant thoughts in his mind. This eased the pressure somewhat, but very little.

It was a shock when she raised her hips cautiously, testing the effort, before sliding back down onto him, smiling when she found that the discomfort was nearly gone. She repeated the motion with more confidence, and before long, she was moving quickly. Harry, nearly out of control, pressed his hands into the mattress and raised his hips to meet her.

It wasn't long before Harry gasped and came, his warmth flooding into her. He knew that he wasn't going to last long, but it was still a disappointment that something so wonderful had been over so soon. That disappointment was replaced by elation at what they had just shared. Harry had always despised the glorification of sex, and the term 'making love'. He didn't understand— it was just sex. Now, though, he realized that it was more than the physical—though it had been a fantastic feeling—reaction. They truly had made love.

Ginny leaned down and pulled his head back so his eyes could meet her eyes. "Thank you, Harry. I love you so much," she said softly, kissing him.

Harry returned the kiss of his soul mate, now surer than ever that he would share his life with this woman.

* * *

Arthur Weasley sighed as he finished his glass of firewhisky. On his desk in the shed were a few of the pictures of his baby girl that he'd gathered over the years.

On the right side was one of her first broom rides, back when she was six. She'd never know that he'd taken that picture, nor that he'd left the shed unlocked on purpose. His little girl was a fierce one, and he knew that she was going to fly. That she _deserved _to fly.

Next to that picture was one of the two of them, working on some Muggle device or other. Of all of his children, she had been the most interested in his work, though he knew it was more because it was with him than it was about the Muggle items. She was a daddy's girl.

His hand landed on the last picture, his finger running down her hair tenderly as if stroking it the way she'd liked when she was younger. She'd always giggle when he ran his hands through her hair. In this picture, that had been taken after the War, she was with Harry, smiling completely happy and carefree. It was a smile he hadn't seen on her face since the before Chamber.

She was no longer his little girl. Another man had come along and taken her heart. That man—Harry Potter—was one that Arthur was proud to call son. His daughter had always known what she wanted, and she always got it. He'd known exactly what she had planned when she asked to 'clean' with Harry. He had been young once, and very much in love with Molly.

He had to push the photo back when he realized that a few tears had trickled down to fall upon it. It was an unrealistic and unnecessary sadness that he felt, for it wasn't as if he lost her. Ginny could not have picked a better man, and he really would be happy to call him a son.

It was a hard thing for a man to realize that his daughter was no longer his little girl. In the end, though, Arthur couldn't be prouder of the woman that his daughter had become.


	5. Long Live the King

**This is probably my favorite chapter in the story, and I really have to give more credit to Tina for this one. It would not be _anywhere _near as wonderful as it is without her taking the time to talk it out with me. Thank you so much, Tina!**

* * *

A few days after their first time, Arthur announced to the Weasley family that he and Molly were going on a vacation to France. They would be gone for a week or two, and Bill would watch over them. To assist Bill – as he had work – was Charlie, who had received time off from his work. He had been living back at the Burrow during his free time.

Ginny had the grace to feel slightly guilty at her elation to the news, and the guilt helped her to mask her excitement. Later that night, she told Harry, and the look of matching joy on his face destroyed whatever guilt there was. They only had a few weeks together before they were separated by work and education.

They made the most of it. Bill had work and Charlie wasn't the most vigilant of guardians.

Ginny fancied that she could feel the lightness in Harry as she lay panting astride him, listening to his heartbeat, which was faster than its normal soothing thump. It was just as soothing to hear, and to her, it felt like victory. When their eyes met, he did laugh. There was no humor there, but instead a sense of elation. She joined him in laughter; being with him intimately always put her in a good mood, and not just for the obvious reasons.

She grinned down at him, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Everything. Does it matter?" Harry asked, blissfully ignorant of how foolish he sounded.

"Wow, I must have been good if I've made you a poet," she teased.

And the atmosphere changed. "You're always good—no, you're bloody fantastic, Gin," Harry said, his green eyes filled with a piercing lust. That gaze had always gotten her ready, as if he was transferring his lust into her.

_Well, he does now. Several times a week, preferably, _she grinned at her private joke before speaking, "Well, you're not half bad yourself."

Harry growled in a teasing way before rolling them over harshly, "Not half bad? I'll show you."

"Harry, you just—oh, wait, _how_?" she asked as his cock, which had never actually left her, hardened again.

"I guess you're a miracle worker. But now it's my turn to work the miracle," Harry asserted, confidence exuding from him. Ginny was fairly assertive herself, but she had to confess that when Harry took control, she enjoyed the hell out of it.

He was now fully erect and ready; he didn't need to ask if she was. She groaned as he withdrew from her, knowing that his return would be rough and deep and exactly what she wanted. He had always been what she wanted. He did not disappoint.

"Harry," she moaned as her hands flew to her sides to hold herself steady and her hips rocked back towards him, almost reflexively, without her permission. Not that she minded, of course.

Harry was panting now, chanting words that didn't hold meaning. She loved that she could take his ability to speak away, even now. She was also a hypocrite, though she couldn't realize this as her mind and body completely surrendered to the passion.

"Oh!" She moaned, over and over, as Harry's speed increased, their rhythm now perfectly in sync. Realizing he was close, she allowed a hand to leave its position as a brace to find her clit, rubbing frantically.

"Soon," Harry managed to say, his voice strained. He said it twice more, as if unsure he'd managed to speak.

"Yeah," she agreed as her palm pressed down on herself and her hips shook in the anticipation of an approaching orgasm.

The anticipation didn't last any longer as a particularly deep thrust from Harry pushed—no, _shoved_—her over the edge, and she moaned as her entire body shuddered, her walls tightening around his erection.

Harry _hissed_, a hard, primal sound of satisfaction as his hands gripped her hips and, barely in control, thrust deeply three more times. With an animalistic shout so loud that, had he been more aware, would have embarrassed him, he came. With his release came the sudden enervation that always resulted from such passionate intimacy. He rolled off of her to lay by her side, pulling her close and into a kiss.

After a few moments where the room was filled with naught but the near-palpable afterglow of sex and heavy panting, Harry asked his question, "So, how's that for not half bad?"

Ginny laughed, her voice light and melodious, much the same as Harry's from earlier, "That, Harry, was _the_ _best _shag we've had."

But Harry's eyes were not on her, she noticed. Wide green eyes were staring past her, towards the nightstand. Ginny turned and saw a golden—if obviously not real gold, but made crudely out of paper—crown, inlaid with drawn-on green gems. Harry blinked, "What the hell is that?"

It wouldn't have been terribly odd except for the fact that the crown had not been there before. Ginny, who was closest to it, slid out from the warm covers to grab it, aware of Harry's eyes staring appreciatively. She picked it up gently and found that, although it was made out of paper, it was as hard as a rock. _A work of magic, then_, Ginny realized. Turning it around, she found text on the back that made her eyebrows rise even as her face flushed further.

_THE ORGASM CROWN  
_of  
GINEVRA WEASLEY  
and  
HARRY POTTER

Harry, who Ginny realized belatedly had asked her a question, seized the crown from her hands and turned it over. Ginny saw the same look on his face that must have been on hers. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

And they didn't need to, because suddenly they heard the Floo downstairs roar to life and somebody come scrambling out. A voice that Ginny recognized as Charlie roared, "Ginny Weasley!"

His voice was an impressive booming tone, likely learned as a vital part of life for a Dragon tamer. Ginny, however, was unconcerned. She'd handled her brothers often enough. Harry, on the other hand, was mortified. Ginny managed to scramble back under the covers just as Charlie burst into the room. In his hand was a small scrap of parchment. "Do you want to tell me _why _this note says _you took the Orgasm Crown?_"

Ginny, never one to be cowed, shot back, "What the bloody hell is it even?"

Charlie, perhaps seeing the warning look in her eyes, sighed and crossed his arms, "It's something that us—us being the Weasley brothers—made up, a joke, you know, a competition. Tied in with the Weasley Blood. It, err, it binds to whoever has the best—_do I really need to say it_? We never really thought about if it'd count you."

Ginny raised an eyebrow, "Am I not a Weasley?"

Charlie looked horribly conflicted, and Ginny almost wanted to laugh, "You're our sister!"

As if that explained everything. "Do Mum and Dad know about this crown?"

Charlie straightened his shoulders in outrage at the attempted blackmail, "Ginny, the crown is sacred. You wouldn't tell them!"

She smirked, all the confidence of a woman who knew when she'd won, "Are you sure about that?"

Charlie opened his mouth angrily, snapped it closed, and opened it again. Sighing, he conceded defeat, "You win, Gin. And not just the damned crown, but we _never talk about that again_. And when did you even leave?" After a moment he shook his head, "Doesn't even matter, just come home soon. Mum and Dad will be home any day now, anyways."

Ginny laughed, conceding the point. It was such a surreal situation; she was naked under the covers, discussing a competition between siblings involving an _Orgasm Crown_.

"Merlin, I need a drink." Evidently, Charlie had decided that was enough and left with as much dignity as a man cowed by his much smaller—and much younger—sister could muster.

Ginny turned and laughed as she saw that Harry had been hiding under the covers. The hero who conquered the Dark Lord indeed. It seemed that he knew Charlie had left as he sheepishly shuffled up and popped his head out. "That was _mortifying_. What are we going to do with that?" he asked, pointing at the crown still loosely held by Ginny.

Ginny just smiled and gently placed the crown on his head. "Long live the King."


	6. Celebrations

The room was brightly colored, and the lighting was soft, the cause being plenty of scented candles, the fragrance of them making the room quite a pleasant place to be. The candles were floating high in the air, indistinctly around the room, no discernable pattern to be seen. Below them, on the table, were a single Amaryllis flower and a bottle of wine.

Seated at that table was Harry Potter, eagerly awaiting the arrival of his girlfriend. His heart was still racing from watching her first ever play in Professional Quidditch. She was still a reserve, but Gloria Chambers took the remainder of the season off after a nasty bludger wound, and Ginny had been pulled to stand in.

Harry had been in attendance, much to the annoyance of the Head Auror. Having the Minister as a friend was a good thing, though he used his influence very little. Taking a day off to watch his kickass girlfriend score seven goals in her first ever game was not too much to ask. Well, according to Gawain Robards it was, but Kingsley was of another opinion.

Harry tried to control his prideful grin, knowing that if it got any wider his mouth would be sore, which would be a tragedy considering what he had planned with it. Harry remembered the thrill of his Quidditch days at school, the power he felt when his hands gripped that cold golden metal; it was nothing in comparison to how he felt watching Ginny.

She was fiery, a goddess of speed on her broom, zipping past opposing players and scoring again and again. Harry had never been prouder in his life. He'd also never been as turned on. This had been problematic as several Weasley brothers had attended the game, even Bill who was often too busy with work. Thankfully, Harry had elected to purchase a pair of Omnioculars for the game and simply placed them in his lap. When questioned about it – Ron was really too oblivious – he simply said he was only interested in Ginny, and he could tell her by her hair.

And it wasn't a lie. For all the three hours the match had lasted, Harry had only had eyes for Ginny. He cheered as loud as the happiest harpy fan when she scored and roared as angrily as the Weasley brothers when that Walsh bastard fouled her.

When the match had finally ended with a landslide win for the Harpies, Harry had managed to get a word in to Ginny, telling her he was eagerly awaiting her at their home. They had been living together for a few months now, and Harry had never been happier in his life. He had already set up the candles, flower, and wine before he left for the game. He knew Ginny would win and had told her as much. Now was the celebration. He had no idea if he'd be able to control himself long enough to enjoy a couple of glasses of wine.

Thankfully, he didn't have to deliberate on that for long. He jumped up with a start when the back door banged open. He circled around the table to open the door but he had been too slow, as a few seconds before he could reach it, it slammed open, revealing a flushed, triumphant Ginny.

He opened his mouth to congratulate her on her win, or perhaps explain that he had wine and offer her the flower; unfortunately, his mouth refused to work. Fortunately, Ginny didn't care for words, proving this as she flung herself at him and kissed him fiercely, seeking that closeness that words could never convey.

The force of her collision had Harry stumbling backwards, his back connecting with the table. The pain barely registered as he threw all caution to the wind and vanished her Quidditch jumper. He pulled back from their closeness to pull off his shoes and unbutton jeans, allowing them to fall. Pulling off his shirt, he looked up to see Ginny wiggling out of her trousers, a naughty smirk on her still-flushed face.

Both dressed in only their undergarments, the reconnected, Harry pinning her to the wall and grinding his hips into her center. He eagerly fumbling with the clasp of her lacy green bra. His mouth now finally deciding to work – perhaps in preparation for the fun to come – he gasped, "Gin, you were wonderful, just amazing."

Her bra fell as she replied, and Harry barely heard her, "I saw you today. In the stands," her words turned to moans as he sought out a pink nipple, sucking it into his mouth. In response, her hands slid into his boxers and took hold of his erection, stroking him lightly. He groaned, and she pulled back to remove his boxes entirely.

"I would not have missed it for the world," Harry whispered as his hand slid lower down her front before sliding into her knickers, a single finger entering her to find that she was as ready as he was.

She gasped and pushed against his hand, "Skip the bloody foreplay, Harry, I want you in me," she demanded, her voice smoky.

Harry grinned at her impatience but acquiesced nonetheless, his hand retreating from her knickers so he could remove them entirely. Now that they were both bare of all clothing, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hopped up, wrapping her legs around him. His hands held her bum firmly and held her confidently as she gripped his penis and guided him to her center.

Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind he registered that shagging his girlfriend in the middle of the kitchen was probably not a good idea. This small voice was demolished as Harry slid into her, her sex hot and welcoming. No matter how many times they had done this – and it was many – it had never changed. She was perfect; she was home.

She pushed against him, urging him to move, and, not needing much encouragement, he did, his hips moving to slide himself in and out of her. He was careful not to thrust too hard, for he knew her back was hitting the wall, but as she didn't complain the last time, they'd done it against the wall, he didn't stop her. He had to admit, the risk of being caught was quite hot. He'd stumbled upon Bill and Fleur at the Burrow once, and he'd wondered why they took the risk in doing something like that; it was obvious to him now.

Quickly he found his pace speeding up, almost against his will. Ginny made her agreement known with a throaty cry, "Oh, yeah, Harry, _yes_," her arms tightened around him as her breath grew heavier, his name escaping her lips with every exhale.

"'m close," Harry warned, his breath labored. His world had dulled until all that was left was Ginny, her tight heat being the only thing Harry was interested in in that moment.

"Me, yeah, you can—_I'm there_," Ginny moaned, her voice rising as she came around him, her legs locking and holding his penis deep inside her. Harry shouted out, releasing himself inside her.

After a few silent moments, filled with naught but heavy breathing, Harry chuckled. "I got wine. And a flower."

Ginny grinned at him and loosened her legs, cueing him to gently lower her to the floor, his hands rubbing her soft back. He hadn't been lying back in sixth year—Ginny had nice skin. If anything, he'd been telling a half-truth; her skin wasn't nice, it was _glorious_.

"That's great, we can drink it together after," Ginny replied, her tone mischievous.

Harry raised an eyebrow even as a smirk found it's way onto his face, "After?"

"Well, If I recall correctly, when I first got accepted to the Harpies you had told me that you'd worship me every time I won a game," she said, her voice full of smugness.

"I do remember saying something along those lines," Harry confirmed, reaching his arms out to sweep her off her feet and hold her closely. "Are you ready to be worshipped, my lady?"

She laughed, her voice full of merriment and delight, "Always, Potter." It wasn't often she allowed Harry to whisk her off her feet and treat her as a lady – she had a reputation to maintain, after all – but she couldn't deny the pleasure she got from it. It didn't hurt that they were both nude, and that he was steadily carrying her up the stairs towards their bedroom.

Harry crossed the threshold of their bedroom and kicked the door closed behind them. Ginny laughed as he threw her on the bed, kneeling down next to her. His head eagerly lowered to her chest, his mouth greedily sucking in a perfect pink nipple. Pulling back, his teeth gently grazing in before letting go, his eyes met hers, trying to show the depths of the love he held for her. Worship in full.

What great delights would have come of this instance of worship, unfortunately, they wouldn't know, for at that moment they heard a voice call out from downstairs, "Harry Potter, you better not be naked!"

Harry's eyes, which had been full of an intense, smoldering desire, widened in fear at the recognized, strong voice. Ginny too sat straight, frozen for a moment as if a deer before headlights. Both Harry and Ginny grabbed their wands from the nightstand and began desperately to throw on clothes, even as they heard Bill calling for them.

Harry, in a rare stroke of genius, transfigured a pillow into a t-shirt and pulled it on, just in time for Bill to throw open the door. Sheepishly, Harry stared at the red-faced redhead. "Bloody hell, you two are _never _on time for things! Mum is in an uproar; she thinks you were kidnapped! Just wait till I tell her that you two are _just fine_, actually, more than fine, judging by the state of you to. Acting like bloody newlyweds, I tell you."

Harry just stared at Bill through the verbal lashing, completely confused. Late for what? Thankfully, Ginny was more composed and, after hitting Bill with a stinging hex, voiced Harry's question.

"_Your bloody celebration_¸ Ginny! The one we've been planning ever since we found out about you getting to play today. Everyone's put in so much effort and _you're late_. So, hurry up and get dressed. Merlin, you're randy, aren't you? You're lucky mum considers you part of the family, Harry."

Ginny made eye contact with Harry and, for a solid two seconds, they were completely silent. Slowly, an understanding look dawned on Ginny's face and she cracked a smile, "Sorry, Bill, but we were doing a bit of, err, celebration on our own," she paused to chuckle slightly. Her cheerful demeanor chilled slightly, "Oh, and if you ever come into our house uninvited and come charging into our bedroom, I'll do a lot worse than a stinging hex."

Bill nodded carefully before smiling. "Bah, you two are old enough to make your own calls, and I can tell just as much as anyone you two are meant to be. Just—do you have to be so blatant? Mum's in tears, you know."

Harry frowned, "I'm sorry, Bill. You know your mum means the world to me." Harry felt genuine guilt, for Mrs. Weasley was the closest thing he had to a mother and the idea of causing her grief just to get his rocks off. He raised downcast eyes at Ginny to see, much to his confusion, her shoulders shaking with hard-fought repressed mirth.

He was horribly confused, and the look of betrayal in his eyes set Ginny off further, her laughter flowing from her in a rush. Feeling annoyed, he stood up and crossed his arms, trying to fight off the feeling of being childish. "What the bloody hell is so funny?"

Bill couldn't answer as he too was now laughing. After around half a minute, all of which Harry felt he was growing increasingly frustrated, Ginny calmed down enough to talk. "Harry, he's clearly pranking us. There isn't any celebration, don't you bloody think that I'd have known if there was?"

Harry couldn't fault her logic, but he still did feel a twinge annoyed, "Well, Bill, why?"

"Remember that time you walked in on Fleur and I behind the broom shed? I felt a little repayment was necessary. Well, I'm going to go, you two enjoy your _celebration_. Oh, and Harry, for future reference, if you transfigure something into clothes you need to concentrate on keeping them that way or they disappear." With that, Bill left them to their celebration, chuckling all the way down to the Floo and back to his home.

Turning around, Harry made eye contact with Ginny, who once again started laughing at the defeated expression on Harry's face. To Harry's credit, he managed to stop her laughing quickly, engaging his mouth to its full potential.


	7. Completion

Harry Potter was not a very sentimental person. Everybody who knew him knew this; from the closest of his friends to the most lustful fan-witches- and, horrifyingly, the occasional fan-_wizard_. It was a well-known truth that when questioned he had grown accustomed to responding with "I'm fine."

Ginny Weasley was a very stubborn person. Everybody who knew her knew this; from the closest of her friends to the most jealous fan-witches—Ginny didn't like to think about the fan-wizards. It was a well-known truth that when Ginny's questions were answered with "I'm fine." that Harry slept on the couch. Really, the lack of sex had hurt her as much as it'd hurt him, but she took pride in her success. And she did succeed.

Thus, Harry had quickly learned to curb his automatic response habit. There were things he wouldn't—couldn't—tell anyone, even Ginny, but overall, he had grown far more open in the years after the War. It had made him feel better, freer, and he knew he owed that all to his friends and Ginny.

Harry had a secret. Really, he'd had it for weeks; he was impressed that he'd managed to keep it a secret so long. Part of that was owed to the fact that Ginny had been so busy with work that she hadn't had the time or energy to be perceptive.

Tonight, he was going to propose. He hadn't even felt nervous about it, for he knew that they were meant to be together. Perhaps it was cheesy, and maybe even _girly_, but he loved her, and she loved him. She made him matter; what more did he need? When he saw her with Teddy, he couldn't help but see her with _their_ child, in the future. Marriage would just be a confirmation of what he already knew: they were a family and they always would be.

Upon waking, everything changed. It was all the same as normal; Ginny was snuggled close, warm and comforting. The blankets were rather lopsided with her somehow managing to steal a fair majority of them, despite their closeness. Her floral scent washed over him, reminding him of what he had.

_And what I have to lose_, he thought. He'd worked hard to get his pessimistic view under control, but sometimes it was a struggle. Today was major, life changing. Moments like these, when he was near to his happiest, the thoughts seemed to more present and pervasive. _Really, she was too exhausted to even know I was planning to propose, what if she's so busy with work she doesn't want to commit? Could I even blame her? We're both busy, what if it's not the time? I don't think I'd be able to take it if she said no._

He shook his head and rose from the warmth of the bed, hoping to stave off the doubts. He knew they were wrong; the trick was to just distract himself. Work was useful for that, most days. Unfortunately, he had pulled from Ginny's arms a bit quickly and she stirred, stretching like a cat and blinking. Caught sitting on the edge of the bed, he couldn't help but admire the view.

"G'morning," she muttered, finishing her stretch and smirking at him as she saw his stare. "Got time for a quickie?"

Harry grinned, easing himself back onto the bed and closer to her. Thoughts for anything but her were blown away as he lowered his head to press a kiss to a nipple, enjoying the mewling sound she made. He continued his actions until she was wiggling her hips under him, her breath coming out in short bursts. He slid up her body, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, enjoying the gentle passion of the early hours. Aligning himself with her opening with practiced ease, he slid into her, groaning as their forms fitted together.

Her arms came up and linked behind his neck, pulling him down to kiss her as their hips rocked together slowly, pleasurably, in the way that made Harry forget about the future; he was in the here and now.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an ending, and although this was quite the happy ending, Harry wished it could go on forever. His hips sped up almost reflexively and Ginny matched him, the slow and gentle passion evolving as they neared the ending. He felt Ginny's arms tighten around him as she shrieked and came on him. He managed another thrust before her legs rose around him and pulled him flush against her and he came.

The only sound in the room was the heavy panting, and the only smell was the scent of sex. After recuperating his energy, Harry pushed himself up and pressed a kiss to her nose, "Sorry, love, but I really do have to go into work. See you tonight?"

Something in his voice must have given a hint of his nerves, for Ginny looked up at him, concerned. "Is everything alright?"

He smiled at her in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, "I'm fine." At her glare, he winced, memories of sleeping on the couch flooding his mind. "Really, I am. We can talk about it tonight, promise."

Ginny smiled then and kissed him sleepily before laying back down. It was with a smug smirk that Harry showered, dressed, and headed to work.

* * *

Upon arriving at work, Robards immediately chewed Harry out over his tardiness. _Totally worth it_, he had thought. Unfortunately, his satisfied demeanor had annoyed his superior and despite the fact that Harry was a Senior Auror and Team Leader, he was set to paperwork duty.

Not only was it a humiliation, but it was also bloody boring. And it allowed his thoughts to wander. This time, though, it was with wondrous anticipation. This morning, Ginny had pulled him away from that dark place that his thoughts went. She always had, and he knew she always would.

That was how Harry found himself smiling at a sheet of paperwork for over an hour. Finally dragging himself back to the present, he managed to work in peace.

_As peaceful as it gets around here, anyways. Why does Williams always feel the need to resort to violence? This could be a lawsuit. I really don't want to spend my time dealing with a lawsuit, not when I'll have my wedding coming up. I wonder how Ginny's doing. _

With that thought, Harry decided to give up on a peaceful day at work. It wouldn't be coming.

* * *

Finally, it was time to go home. He was practically chased out by Robards, who had seen his lack of progress and attention to the paperwork. He told him to come back next week with a clear mind.

Robards could be a bastard sometimes, but Harry had never been happier to get an informal suspension. It had been hard to act disgruntled when he had wanted to hug the man, but Harry had managed.

Now, he was confronted with the realization that he would very soon be proposing to the love of his life. He couldn't figure out why it was so nerve-wracking. He did know one thing, though: there was no way he was going to go through the entire dinner without Ginny noticing.

Quietly, Harry walked into the kitchen, his hand subconsciously rubbing the spot in his pocket where the ring was. He noticed Ginny puttering in the corner, back turned to him. Her fiery red hair—the hair that he'd always loved—practically glowed, giving visual evidence of her fiery nature. He must have made some noise, for she turned, a bright smile on her face. And everything changed. It was as if he had been looking through a foggy lens his entire life and it had suddenly been cleared. It was in her freckles, perfectly her. Those brown eyes, so full of love and passion, reflecting her nature. With this new, clear vision everything else disappeared. His elaborate plan, the plan he'd spent weeks on, shattered. He didn't need to be fancy, he never had. He just needed her.

He must have been staring at her strangely, for her smile turned into a confused expression. With a smile, Harry strode forward and pulled her into her arms, kissing her heatedly. After a moment he pulled back and smiled at her dazed expression. "Wow, what's the occasion," she asked, her voice pleasant to his ears. He smiled at the perfect opening that she had provided.

"I love you, Ginny. You're everything to me," he told her, words he'd said several times. Words he'd always meant. Tonight, though, they were different. They were spoken from somewhere inside of him that he didn't understand, didn't know. But it was the truest part of his being as if drawn directly from his soul. He reinforced the words by sliding back slighting and going down on one knee, the ring having been pulled from his pocket as he'd spoken. He offered it to her with a smile, "Marry me?"

In all his years—not counting the summer she'd spent hiding from him—that he'd ever seen Ginny speechless, so it was with some interest that he saw her mouth open, only to refuse words. After a moment, though, she gathered the power to speak, "Oh, Harry."

He smiled awkwardly, "If you don't say _something,_ I think I'll have a stroke."

She opened her mouth to reply but suddenly the door opened and Molly strode in. "Ginny, I know you wanted me to bring dinn—" there was a pause as she took in the situation: Harry's shocked face, Ginny's embarrassed amusement. After a second, she dropped the tray of food she'd cooked and let out a very loud and very excited squeal, and Harry and Ginny were wrapped up in a massive hug. Blinking in confusion, Harry realized that he was being hugged by Molly. He looked at Ginny, who looked amused.

"Oh, you two! I was wondering when you'd finally ask, Harry! Oh, we have to tell Arthur! And your brothers! Oh, there's so much planning to do! And _grandchildren_."

Harry paled at the barrage of statements and assumptions, fearing Ginny's anger. He turned to see her grinning fondly at her mother. Molly released them, giving them an expectant look. Ginny rolled her eyes, "I haven't actually answered yet, Mum."

Molly deflated as if she were a balloon punctured, and if he were being honest, Harry felt the same way. Ginny must have seen his expression because she yanked the engagement ring from his hand and slid it onto her hand. "You prat, did you think I _wouldn't_ say yes?" It was then, pulled into a second, breath-depriving hug that day, this time by his fiancé, that Harry decided he now had everything that he had ever wanted.

He was complete.


	8. Endings are Beginnings

**And here it is! The ending of my short series. I enjoyed writing this story immensely, so I hope you lovely folks enjoyed reading.**

**A few (perhaps repetitive, but nonetheless heartfelt) credits: **

**I really appreciate everyone on our Discord server, so if you're in there, this is a shoutout to you! You guys are all amazing, thank you. For specifics;**** to Deadwoodpecker,** **whose eagerness to see more of this always made me want to write more. To Meyers1020 who was always encouraging me when I needed it, and of course, to Tina. Without her encouragement and help (and fantastic bad cop), this fun little story wouldn't exist. Thank you guys so much!**

* * *

The wedding had gone perfectly, as far as Weasley weddings went. Indeed, it was quite tame—there were only two pranks, and neither had been on Harry or Ginny. The dancing had been quite fun, and Harry didn't regret all the lessons he'd had to take. The Magical Binding was the most wondrous thing he'd ever been part of, and he felt different in an inexplicable way. A good way.

Eventually, though, the merriment and excitement wore off and, if he were being honest, all Harry wanted to do was go to their honeymoon and enjoy Ginny. He could tell that Ginny felt much the same, and it was then that they made their departure. He was a fairly patient man in most things, but in this, he wasn't. Ginny had never been a patient woman.

A quick Portkey—Harry really hated Portkeys—led them to a gorgeous small rented home on a beach. He didn't even know where, but he did know that they both had the next two weeks to themselves. He had never looked forward to something so much.

Ginny had asked him to wait in the living-room while she prepared herself, so Harry stared out the window at the picturesque landscape, still gorgeous despite the darkness of night. It gave him time to reflect, so he lost himself in his mind.

So much had changed in his life. He used to be so afraid of so many things. He still held fears—every person does—but he had a wonderful, vivacious wife. _Wife_, he thought, enjoying the word. He'd never truly appreciated it. He had a family, the one thing he could always remember wanting. His dearest ambition had been achieved, and he only had more to look forward to from here.

But then he heard her calling him, and he was snapped back to the present. Standing on very eager feet, he strode to the bedroom and opened the door, sliding into a glorious sight. The room was spacey and decorated with several different functions and in the corner was a Jacuzzi that he was very eager to experiment with, but his eyes were drawn to one specific sight: the large, plush bed that held his very naked, very gorgeous wife, grinning at him. Atop her head sat the crude, paper crown. _The Orgasm Crown_, Harry remembered. He hadn't seen it in a while. _So, she was saving it for the occasion. _

"You are entirely too clothed, Potter," she drawled, her voice entirely too sexy.

Pulling off his clothes in what must have been record time, Harry joined her on the bed, leaning up to gently remove the Crown. He started at it for a moment—they'd had some fun times earning it, and the battles between the Weasley siblings for ownership of it were quite interesting—but they didn't need a Crown to prove they were bloody fantastic at shagging. He chucked it to the side, not caring where it landed, and then pulled Ginny into a heated kiss.

Not breaking contact with her lips, his hand slid down her body, eventually finding itself trailing through her red curls and folds, finding her wet for him. Harry was a man of patience, and he _loved _foreplay, but he found he couldn't help himself. As he aligned his penis with her center and pushed in, he found she didn't mind, if her moan was anything to judge by.

The first time was frantic, fast and passionate. The second time, some fifteen minutes later, was slow and romantic. It was amazing for Harry to believe that they would share this life forever.

They both dozed off, exhausted and very much sated. He wasn't sure how long it'd been until he woke up again, but he supposed time didn't matter for the next two weeks. All that mattered was Ginny.

He smiled down at her, taking the moment to study her peaceful form. Her hair was spread behind her, and her mouth was open slightly, little whistling noises and all. She was gorgeous. Suddenly—perhaps sensing that she was being watched—her eyes cracked open to find his. She smiled.

"What time is it?" she asked, her voice soft and muted from sleep.

Harry pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose, "I have no idea."

She snorted, "I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? Not for the next few weeks."

Harry grinned, "I was just thinking the same thing. So, what do you want to do, Mrs. Potter?"

Ginny smiled innocently before stretching and standing. She strode across the room before turning her head back to him and winking, "Do you want to break in the living-room?"

Harry stood eagerly, following her. The last week had been filled with many memories, but now he could look forward to the future and to the many memories yet to be made.


End file.
